A Wine by Any Other Name
by Xyriath
Summary: "You're my waiter and I'm on a really crappy date with an asshole" Roy/Ed modern day "We're really bad at dating" AUs, part 1


Roy was going to kill Maes.

He managed to keep his expression pleasant—after all, as a politician, Roy ate a lot of shit for a living—but internally he was visualizing a quite painful, brutal, and gory death for his friend. Right now, immolation seemed to be the most pleasant option, because it gave him a chance to thoroughly grill Maes with questions he was burning to have answered.

Like why did you have me sign up for this stupid charity auction.

They had only just sat down at the table, guided there by a very well-dressed hostess, and already Roy thought it would be a miracle if he got through this without murdering Solf Kimblee, too. Sure, maybe it wouldn't be the best for his public image to kill one of Chicago's finest, but at this point he was fairly sure that he'd be doing the city a favor. Because really, this guy wasn't one of the finest.

"Nice place," the guy said with a smirk, glancing around. "Definitely worth the money."

Roy could feel a brief flash of pain cross his polite smile, but Kimblee didn't seem to have noticed. Either that, or deliberately ignored it—Roy couldn't seem to figure out if that comment, as well as the similar one in the car about _Roy_ being worth Kimblee's money—was the man being intentionally rude or simply insensitive.

Either way, assuming he survived this disaster of a date, he was going to murder Maes.

"Only the best for you," Roy said through a tight smile.

"I'll say," Kimblee shot back with a smirk, giving every inch of Roy that his eyes could reach a looking-over with the expression of a guy who thought that he was getting lucky tonight.

Roy was half-nauseous at the thought, but he would certainly enjoy telling Kimblee to fuck off after dinner. Politely.

He was scheming how he might get out of this—a convenient case of food poisoning? But Xerxes was a _good_ restaurant. Roy couldn't do that to them.

He sighed.

"So." He tried to keep his voice light and casual. "You work at the precinct with my friend, I've heard—"

"Really, work?" Kimblee drawled. "I spend all day worrying about work. I'd rather hear about you."

Roy felt Kimblee's ankle press against his, then a further pressure as their legs slid closer together. He resisted the urge to yank his away. "Haven't you ever heard it's impolite to talk about politics on a first date?" If he kept it up, perhaps Kimblee would take the hint as to what else Roy _certainly_ wouldn't be doing on a first date—which would be their last.

Kimblee raised an eyebrow, looking like he was about to say something as his leg slid closer, when their waiter stepped up to their table.

"Hey there," he drawled, surprisingly irreverent for a waiter at Xerxes. "Name's Ed, I'll be your waiter tonight and all that. You guys want any water?"

"Yes, please." Roy took the opportunity to straighten under the pretense of directing his attention towards Ed, pulling his legs away. He caught Kimblee's annoyed expression out of the corner of his eye. "No lemon."

"Yeah, sure." Kimblee kept his reply shorter, less polite, and with a thread of hostility in Ed's direction. Roy wished that he had made his gratitude clearer, his annoyance at Kimblee's manners growing.

"If you're interested today, our specials are—"

"I saw them on the way in," Kimblee cut in impatiently.

Roy stared at Kimblee, mortification at being in his company starting to settle in. He expected the waiter to smile awkwardly and retreat, but he just shot an impatient look back in Kimblee's direction, as good as he had gotten.

"Yeah," he said slowly, irony faint but definitely audible in his voice, "but maybe your date hasn't."

Roy winced slightly at the fact that he had pinpointed them as dates so quickly, but quickly turned it into his most charming smile, ignoring Kimblee's glare at the young man. "You're absolutely right, Ed. Would you mind listing them off for me?"

He caught the wary look Ed gave him—and really, he didn't blame him—before he seemed to decide that Roy, at least, was tolerable, and returned the grin, though perhaps with a bit more mischief.

"Well," he began, elongating the word so that it seemed to have at least three syllables, "We've got an amazing scallops dish, personal favorite..."

Roy listened attentively as Ed described the dishes in detail, perhaps more minute than a normal waiter would, and somewhere between hiding his laugh at Kimblee's expression of growing irritation and thinking that scallops sounded _amazing_ , he decided that he liked Ed.

"Well, thank you for such a thorough explanation, Ed." He made sure that his grin was entirely sincere. "They sound positively amazing."

Roy didn't miss the slight smirk that played around the corners of Ed's lips. "Yeah, well, gotta say I have to recommend the house special. Promise it's delicious," he finished archly.

Before Roy could puzzle out if the tone of Ed's voice made that an innuendo, Ed winked at him and walked off.

"Uppity kid," he heard Kimblee mutter.

"I thought he was amusing," Roy shot back idly, watching the space where Ed had disappeared for a few more moments before turning back to his date (a term that still caused Roy to shudder inside). "And helpful."

"Disrespectful, is what," Kimblee muttered. "He's a _waiter_. I'm an officer of the law. _You're_ a senator. I think we've earned politeness from the person serving our food."

Roy nearly bit his tongue, holding it in, but tried to smile politely. "On the contrary. I find it refreshing when a food service worker feels comfortable enough in their position to express themselves. Do you know what you're getting?"

Kimblee took the distraction, luckily. "The snapper, probably." He picked up the wine list and skimmed through it. Roy felt a twinge of hope for the evening; he had been eyeing a Riesling that looked positively divine.

"If you're looking for a wine recommendation, I might suggest—"

"I know what I'm getting." Kimblee cut him off with a sharpness that was almost a snap. Roy inhaled through his nose, then exhaled through his mouth. He could get through this.

And then Ed was back, a slight smile on his face that made Roy wonder if there was a joke that he wasn't quite in on—and want to know what that joke was. Either way, the prospect of making it through the night became immediately slightly less daunting.

"We decided yet?" Ed set their waters down with a chirp that Roy _couldn't_ imagine was sincere, especially after seeing how Kimblee's scowl deepened at the noise. Roy's water had no lemon, he was pleased to note, but even more distracting was the smile that Ed was now directing towards him.

"Yes, please. I think I'll take your advice and take the house special." He paused, a smile tugging at his own lips. "The scallops, I mean."

"I can see that you're a man of impeccable taste," Ed drawled with a slow smile. "I guarantee you won't regret it."

Another wink, and he turned to Kimblee, whose scowl was darkening even more as he glanced between Roy and Ed. Given the very carefully innocent expression on Ed's face that was most certainly bullshit, Ed knew exactly what he was doing.

Perhaps this could be more fun than Roy had thought.

Kimblee ordered his snapper, and a red Bordeaux for them that left Roy cringing internally. From the expression of mild horror on Ed's face that occupied the moment from Kimblee's words to Ed's messy scribbling, he was going through a similar wave of mortification.

"Okay, then." He collected their menus, voice noticeably less enthusiastic than when he greeted them, but he managed to muster up a little for a smile at Roy. "I'll put them right in."

"Thank you, Ed." Roy kept his reply sincere. "Is that short for Edward?" He may have poured a bit more of a purr into his voice at the last word than was strictly acceptable, but he was rewarded by a slight inhalation of breath and widening of Ed's eyes at the words, so subtle that he would have missed it if he hadn't been watching him closely.

"Yeah," he replied, voice ever so slightly shaky as he tried for another smile at Roy. "That's fine, too."

Roy winked at him.

He was fairly certain that Ed was trying not to fall over when he turned to leave.

After shooting a quick text of reassurance to a fretting Maes—Roy could understand; Maes had to _work_ with the guy—Roy decided to try the work tactic again. It seemed, by far, the safest topic of conversation, if he could frame it correctly.

"So," Roy drawled with a faint smile, putting about a quarter of the effort into the word as he had into "Edward." Kimblee straightened anyway, the annoyance fading. "What's a normal day like? I want to hear about you."

And thus, Roy was left free to his own devices, doing his best to ignore most of what was coming from Kimblee's mouth aside from the occasional polite nod and idle question.

Ed's return interrupted a story that was too quickly going into matters dancing around race and crime that made Roy quite uncomfortable (though Roy supposed he shouldn't have been surprised; the first thing out of Kimblee's mouth when Roy had explained that he was half-Japanese, not Chinese, had been a yakuza crack), and Roy practically leaped out of his seat to greet him.

"Hello again, Edward. Nice to see you again."

Ed smirked at him this time, either now immune to the effect his full name had on him or hiding it very well. "Couldn't stay away, and I figured you'd missed me."

"I was inconsolable," Roy replied, dry as the Atacama.

Ed shrugged. "Yeah, I have that effect on people. Can I get you two _lovebirds_ anything else, or are you good?"

Roy gritted his teeth at the needling tone in Ed's voice, narrowing his eyes as he watched a small smirk flicker across Ed's lips.

So that was how it was going to be, was it? "Not at the moment, but I'm sure there will be an inevitable mess of spilled drinks at some point."

Ed grimaced at him, but Roy caught the hint of appreciation for the teasing in his eyes before it was gone. "Well, your food will be out shortly, along with that wonderful Bordeaux I'm sure you'll both enjoy." He beamed at the last bit. Roy needed to work on the quality of his retorts; too long playing nice had dulled his edge.

He suddenly wanted to spend several hours alone with Ed. Just to brush up on his banter, of course.

Kimblee cleared his throat. "If we're talking about work, how about all of these crimes I've solved? Single-handed, too. You ever heard of the Chopper case? Gruesome stuff." He smirked.

Roy had to resist rolling his eyes. Yes, he had; in fact, it had been the first big case Maes had solved while they had been dating, years ago. "No, it sounds thrilling," he replied in a completely monotone voice, which Kimblee apparently missed completely—and drew a soft snort of laughter from Ed. "Do tell."

He, of course, waited until Ed returned with their food to break into Kimblee's highly fictionalized rendition with, "Oh, yes, I do remember this! In fact, Maes kept me quite up-to-date on it—the lead investigator of the case? We're quite close friends. I wasn't aware if you knew."

Roy relished the silence as it stretched longer than was comfortable. A quick glance and a smirk on his lips up in Ed's direction got him an answering smile, though this was more sharklike grin than Roy's smugness.

He was through playing games.

"So, tell me, Edward," Roy practically purred again. "Have they changed the uniform? I always thought that it had looked rather uncomfortable, but it seems so much more flattering than usual. Unless it's simply the ease with which you wear it."

"No, it's just me." Ed shrugged, then gestured down at himself, leaning back and shifting his weight onto one hip as Roy watched appreciatively, glancing all the way down before back up to his face. He was on the shorter side, but clearly exercised, and from what Roy could see most of what Ed had was muscle. And his golden eyes and long braid, especially in contrast to the black, was absolutely stunning. "Never noticed how great it was before, huh?"

"Mm, no, though not quite perfect. I could think of some improvements." He shrugged a shoulder casually. "Perhaps if you lent it to me at some point."

"Please. My old man'd kill me if I lost another—" His head jerked up, and he turned his head. Roy followed, and saw the owner of Xerxes, Van Hohenheim, beckoning at Ed.

Ed simply sighed. "Well, maybe I'll consider it anyway. 'Scuse me, the boss is calling."

And with a wink in Roy's direction, he left them to their dinners.

"Maybe he's going to fire him for being a nuisance to the customers," Kimblee growled, stabbing forcefully at the snapper. "Would serve him right."

In truth, Roy had wondered the same thing. "I certainly hope not." He ignored the glare Kimblee shot him.

The food, thankfully, meant that he didn't need to try to make more conversation, simply savored the scallops. Kimblee, at least, seemed to have quieted for the moment, which was a nice relief as well.

Of course, Roy knew that Ed's next visit would likely provoke something else intolerable, but he couldn't help but feel a little more lighthearted when he saw the familiar head of blonde hair approaching.

"Sorry about that. Enjoying everything?" He grinned over at Roy.

"Certainly." Roy swallowed the rest of his scallops, then smirked. "It's absolutely divine. I have to thank you for the recommendation, Edward." And in a show of manners that were really not appropriate for Xerxes, he put his fork in his mouth and closed his lips around it, then slid it out, savoring the last remnants of butter and scallop before it left his mouth in a fairly suggestive fashion. Ed's eyes, Roy was pleased to note, didn't leave his lips.

The silence stretched on as both Ed and Kimblee stared.

"Right," Ed said, a little too quickly and a little too hoarsely. "So, uh, glad to hear it. I'll just—" He bumped into the table, nearly sloshing the Bordeaux over the edge of Roy's full wineglass, and jumped back. "Just let me know if you need any dessert."

"Absolutely," Roy murmured. "I'm _certain_ I will."

Ed's eyes gleamed slightly at the unspoken promise. "Right. Back later, then." Turning away, he paused in front of Kimblee, who had stopped eating. "You want a box for that?"

Kimblee blinked for a moment, attention still held with the aftermath of Roy's little display, before turning and glaring at Ed. "I'm not done!"

"Whatever, man, chill the f... frick out." Ed shrugged and headed to another table.

Roy watched him go again, and wished he had done so for longer when, upon turning his head at Kimblee's throat clearing, saw the man attempting a similar display with his snapper.

Roy closed his eyes, sent up a plea to every deity whose name he had ever heard, and finally decided that the situation was dire enough for him to start on his wine.

—

The check couldn't have come soon enough. Unfortunately, instead of flirting with Ed over a dessert order, another young man, taller but with the same golden hair and eyes (perhaps a relative?) was the one to ask. As such, Roy passed on the dessert and requested the check, and despite getting his wish, couldn't help but be disappointed.

"Is Edward all right?" Roy asked, trying his best to keep his tone polite. "Nothing wrong, I hope."

"Oh, no, the owner just wanted a word with him," the young man replied cheerfully. "He asked me to cover things."

Roy nearly grimaced before he realized that would be rude, and settled for a polite smile. "Just the check then, please."

He excused himself to go to the restroom before Kimblee could attempt to grab his thigh again. When he had nearly reached it, however, he felt a hand catch his arm and pull him to the side.

"Hey, lookin' for me?"

Roy turned to see a familiar face with a smirk plastered across its face, and grinned.

"Actually, Edward, I needed to use the restroom."

Ed snorted. "Uh huh. Or was it to escape that creeptastic date of yours? The fuck were you thinking, asking him out?"

Roy grimaced. "I didn't, not willingly. A life lesson on why you should never volunteer for a charity auction."

"No shit." Ed squinted at Roy. "Oh, man, yeah, you're that senator guy. Does that mean you'll be single again once the evening ends?"

Roy snorted. "Edward, darling, I'm quite single _now_."

"Oh, good."

Roy wasn't sure where the supply closet had come from, but he supposed it had to have always been there if Ed was shoving him into it, one hand in his shirt, his face tilted up inches from Roy's.

And then it wasn't even that far.

It was only one kiss, technically, for as long as it lasted. Roy's senses seemed to become hyperaware, his back pressed against the wall, Ed's fingers on his chest, the pressure of their lips in what was almost an antagonism worthy of their conversation over the dinner.

Though, in contrast to what Roy would have expected, Ed's lips were so _soft_.

And he tasted unfairly good. That was Roy's last coherent thought before his tongue swept into Ed's mouth.

Roy could feel more than hear the moaning, though he wasn't sure from whom it came. He was far more distracted by the warmth of Ed's arms underneath his hands, the shifting of his shirt as Ed's buttons caught and tugged on his own, the faint scent of warmth (he wasn't sure how someone could smell warm, but Ed _did_ ) in his nose.

And then he was gasping as Ed pulled away, eyes wide, a faint smirk on his face but Roy couldn't help but be irrationally pleased that he was breathing as heavily as Roy was.

"Wow," Roy managed to croak out.

"Edward!"

Both Ed and Roy jumped, but Roy was pretty sure Ed shot up so high that he was almost eye-level with Roy. With a sinking feeling of horror in his stomach, Roy met the eyes of Van Hohenheim, the owner of Xerxes.

Roy was fairly certain that he had just gotten Ed fired.

"I—I was just, sir, I'm sorry I distracted Edward, please don't—"

"I know very well what he was doing," Van cut in, voice unsurprised but with a hint of exasperation. "It's not the first time I've caught you in a closet with a customer, is it, Ed?"

Roy barely registered the glare in Ed's direction with how surprised he was that the sentence bothered him so much. Ed, luckily, ignored the glare as well, paying attention to Roy instead.

"Don't worry," he drawled, brushing a finger briefly up under Roy's chin. "Not with anyone cuter than you."

"I bet you say that to all the boys," Roy muttered, trying not to scowl as he straightened his shirt and tie.

"No way, I'm serious." Ed straightened his own clothing. "Besides, what kind of senator would you be if you weren't caught at least once illicitly making out in a closet with someone way younger than you?"

"That's—!" Roy sputtered, but Ed had already turned to leave the closet, patting Van's chest. "I _told_ you I was on break. Al said he'd cover my tables for like five minutes."

"You shouldn't enlist your brother in your indiscretions," Van shot back, voice clipped and irritated. At the word "brother," the wheels in Roy's head began to turn…

"Well, you know what they say, _dad_ , the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Ah, there it was. Roy felt foolish for not seeing it sooner. He couldn't help but smile, however, when Ed turned, lifting his pinky and thumb and placing his hand by his ear in the universal "call me" sign before turning and sauntering off.

"I apologize for his behavior, Mister Mustang—"

"Not at all, sir," Roy cut in smoothly. "The food was excellent, as always." He nearly mentioned that the service had been, as well, but caught himself in time, thinking that might be a bit… much, for a father to hear.

He neatly sidestepped Van on his way back to his table, where a far less pleasant prospect was waiting for him.

"I hope you're not tipping," Kimblee snapped as Roy glanced at their bill, tapping the pen on the table. "The brat didn't even bother finishing our service!"

Roy didn't even bother answering; he had maybe five more minutes of this hell.

Kimblee sighed. "Okay, okay. So, hey, what next?" His annoyed tone changed to one with a smirk in it. "Heard your house is something damned impressive. I can only imagine."

"Good," Roy replied shortly. "Because you'll have to continue doing just that."

"Excuse me?" He could hear the annoyance creeping into Kimblee's tone again. He ignored it, instead writing out a hefty thirty percent tip and signing his name with a flourish. _Then_ he looked up.

"Well, we've finished the date and, thus, the terms of our contract," he explained with a polite smile. "I've called you a cab. It'll be here shortly. I'd advise you get outside, so you don't miss it."

With that, he looked down at the receipt, tapping his pen against the table once again. After a moment's hesitation, he took his copy, flipped it over, and wrote in big letters: "FOR EDWARD, if he should so desire it:"

Seven digits later, Roy had collected his coat, stepped around a sputtering Kimblee, and stepped out into the night, a renewed bounce in his step.


End file.
